Coronavirus pub bores
of nuclear war are disclosed. The Scottish Government are advising: “Wherever possible avoid direct contact with people that have a respiratory illness and avoid using their personal items such as their mobile phone.”
Obviously this could prove problematic for the one couple in the country, Ted and Sheila, who share a mobile and they may have to buy another toothbrush.
Scotland’s chief medical officer Dr Catherine Calderwood certainly made everyone sit up and take notice when she presented a “worst-case scenario” that – at the top end – would see approximately 4.3 million Scottish people getting the virus with between 200,0000 to 250,000 of them requiring hospital treatment.
Nicola Sturgeon, in a joint press conference with Dr Calderwood, was reported to have said: “I do think it is important we give frank information around this, but it is not overly dramatised.”
‘Hello’. You couldn’t have been more dramatic – 200,000 seriously ill Scots in the hosser with only 13,400 acute beds to go around. Where are they going to put the rest of them, Inchcolm Island? I question the point in going all in for the ‘worst case scenario’ option. OK, it could happen in the same way that the Scotland football team could beat Brazil 9-0 in the World Cup final, but as indicators go it’s simply not the best.
According to one of the many experts I have spoken to and now count as close personal friends, reaching such a situation would mean Scotland had taken absolutely no preventative measures such as increased hygiene and containment and that’s not going to happen.
However, the coronavirus has to be taken seriously and while loudly stating that “more people die from the flu” might make you sound clever among the punters in the local boozer, it’s not helping anyone.
Most people have a family member or know someone who falls into the ‘vulnerable’ category and it’s poor form to dismiss anyone’s concerns at this time of heightened anxiety while staying on the ride side of the more alarmist outpourings.
I for one certainly don’t fancy the ‘shortness of breath’ symptom of the illness which doesn’t sound like a whole bunch of fun.
My friend was stocking up on tomato soup the other day and said they had considered not leaving the house for a while. I told them it wasn’t like Trainspotting and that scene where Renton attempts to come off the smack.
However, I have to say so far I think the Scottish Government is doing a good job of keeping us informed and their daily updates are welcome, but there are questions to be asked of the ability of the NHS to cope with the scale of outbreak that could hit in a couple of months.
One good thing to come out of all this misery is that we’re now set to become a nation of hand washers as many ride the wave of this newfangled craze for ‘personal hygiene’.
This takes me back to the halcyon days of my youth spent in the pubs of Leith where washing one’s hands was strictly frowned upon, only for women, children and men who appeared ‘light on their loafers’. No, the done thing was to stand at the urinal, a quick shake, then back to your pint and bag of dry roasted peanuts. “Care for a nut Bobby?”
I remember there was one pub that shall remain nameless which didn’t even have a woman’s toilet until the mid-1990s.
They were terrified females would start to loiter – infecting the place with their personal hygiene while ordering Babycham. Now take care and wash your hands.